Love, Loss, and Sherlock bloody Holmes
by The Time lord consulting Angel
Summary: Almost three years after the death of Sherlock Holmes Molly is finally happy. wonderful boyfriend, great job, her life is going well. That is until Sherlock bloody Holmes shows up and ruins everything. Is everything really ruined or will Sherlock be able to fix the mess he made. judging by his reputation with messes it isn't looking good.
1. Chapter 1

Molly Hooper was exhausted. Not just tired, as she had felt for the last three years, but absolutely, dead on her feet exhausted. She had been working three days straight and was about to collapse.

When she was finally finished Molly barely had enough energy to go home and almost fell asleep in the taxi. The house was dark and she didn't bother turning on a light, making her way through the house on pure memory. Walking straight up stairs she had a quick shower, almost falling to sleep again, and walked into her bedroom. She slowly opened the door, careful not to make a sound, and the scene made her smile. Sprawled across the double bed was her boyfriend of two and a half years, DI Greg Lestrade. He looked so sweet, with his grey hair all messed up and his leg hanging off the side of the bed. She didn't want to wake him up, but sleeping on the lounge didn't sound to appealing either. And he was snoring _really_ loudly. Molly leant over and shook his shoulder.

"Greg," She whispered. "Greg, you need to move over."

He moaned and rolled over, a bit too far, and ended up falling off his side of the bed. Well at least he was awake.

He was disoriented, and slipped over twice trying to get back into bed.

"Hello." He mumbled, leaning over for a kiss.

"Hmm. Goodnight. Go back to sleep." He didn't need to be told twice.

She smiled. She smiled a lot lately; it was a nice change from the nervous school girlish smile she wore far too often a few years ago. It had been just under three years since Sherlock had jumped and almost destroyed the DI's career, and a year later they were living together. She was happy with Greg. She smiled, lying down she closed her eyes and was out like a light.

The next morning Molly woke up first, which didn't happen a lot, and crept downstairs to make breakfast. She was finishing off the coffee when she felt his arms around her waist and a kiss on her neck.

"Mmm. Morning." He murmured into her neck.

"Morning." She replied, turning in his arms to kiss him good morning. "I made breakfast."

"Smells good." he reached around and grabbed a piece of toast and a cup of coffee.

"So, what's on the agenda today?" Molly asked.

Greg looked at her, confused. "You forgot? Really?"

"Forgot what, exactly?"

Greg smirked and walked up behind her, pulling a rectangular box from out of his pocket.

"Happy birthday." He whispered.

"Oh my god I completely forgot!"

"Yeah I noticed. Open it."

Pulling open the smallish box she pulled off the lid. Inside the box was a silver chain necklace with a heart locket on it. The heart was gold with small silver vine patterns along the left side. It was beautiful.

Molly pulled the necklace out and opened the locket. On one side was engraved with Molly's favourite quote 'Love is like the wind, I can't see it, but I can feel it' and the other was a picture of Molly and Greg. It was one of her favourite picture. A friend of Greg's had taken it when she moved into her apartment. Greg was sitting on the lounge and he had grabbed her around the waist, pulling her on to the lounge with him. They were so happy.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it. It's perfect, thank you." She turned and kissed him, and kept kissing him. Pulling back before they got carried away, he smiled down at her.

"Do you want me to put it on you?"

"Yes please." Molly turned around so he could put it around her neck.

He put the necklace on her and she turned around.

"There." He kissed her. "You look beautiful."

"I'm wearing sweats and your T-shirt." She said sceptically.

"So?"

"So…Nothing. You have jam on your face by the way."

"What? No I don't."

Molly lifted up her finger, running it along his cheek and transferring the jam along the left side of his face.

"Now you do."

Lestrade stood there surprised for a few seconds, before reaching behind Molly and grabbing a handful of sugar and sprinkling it on her head. Five minutes later they were both covered in jam, sugar, coffee grinds and salt. It wasn't until Lestrade picked up the water/faucet/hose that the slowed down.

"Don't, Greg _don't._ I'm serious, this isn't funny."

Just as Lestrade was about to spray her with the faucet/hose the doorbell rang.

"Saved by the bell." He smirked and Molly turned and ran down the hall. She put on a jacket so whoever was at the door couldn't see the miss covering her T-shirt, and went to open the door.

"Sorry, I was-" Molly stopped talking and stared in shock.

"Morning Molly."

"Sherlock?"

Molly pulled the door closed behind her.

"Sherlock you can't be here. You have to leave, now."

"What? Why? Molly we need to talk." Sherlock looked the exact same as he did before the fall. Minus about twenty kilos in weight, the fact he was even paler before and looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. But other than that he looked the same.

"Not now. Sherlock this isn't a good time you need to leave before Greg comes out and sees you."

"Greg? Why is Greg in your apartment?" Just as Sherlock finished the sentence the front door opened.

"Molly where-" Molly winced and Lestrade froze, absolutely stunned. His expression went from stunned to shock to extremely confused. The three stood in silence for a long minute before Greg broke.

"What the bloody hell is going on here? You're dead."

"Obviously I'm not." Sherlock's tone was the same bored and annoyed tone he had heard so often before and the reality of him not being dead finally sunk in.

"Now if we could go inside I will explain everything." Sherlock didn't wait for an answer before pushing past Lestrade and walking into the house. He turned and looked at Molly, but she just walked past him and followed Sherlock. When they were all in the lounge room Lestrade started again.

"Okay, we're inside, now explain how the hell you're still alive!" he was ever so slightly pissed.

"I knew Moriarty was planning my _suicide _so I simply asked Molly how to-"

"You knew about this?!"

"Of course she knew. You didn't tell him? You've been dating for at least two years, I thought you would have mentioned it."

"You told me not to!" Molly yelled. "You said it could ruin everything!"

"Yes but you always were a terrible liar."

"Wait wait wait. So let me get this straight. You" he pointed at Sherlock "faked your death because you somehow knew Moriarty would kill you by forcing you to commit suicide, disappear for three years, along with my career and decent reputation, and you," he turned to Molly, his voiced filled with betrayal, "knew all of this, and didn't say anything."

"It wouldn't have mattered if she did say anything I couldn't have come back."

"Shut up Sherlock. I need some air."

"Greg-"

"Don't. Just… Don't" and with that Greg walked down the hallway and out of the house.

Molly just stood there. Everything had been going great, and then Sherlock bloody Holmes just showed up and ruined everything.

"I'm sorry Molly."

"Can you- can you just go. Please."

Sherlock may be foreign to human emotions, but he needed Molly's help, and decided not to push his luck.

Now she was alone. Just like the day Sherlock had died. Only this time she felt so much more alone. This was without a doubt, the worst birthday Molly had ever had.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock walked down from Molly's house, with a strange feeling in his chest. What was it, guilt? Regret?

He didn't feel things like this. He just didn' wasn't his fault Molly had decided to date Lestrade knowing she had helped Sherlock fake his death. Then again she didn't know when or even if he would come back. He walked down the path to the street and out the gate. He tried to ignore the feeling but when he saw the trashcan Lestrade had knocked over it just got worse and worse until he knew the guilt was showing on his face. He had to shake the guilt off.

He knew he couldn't go to Johns apartment, especially after the disaster with Molly. That was why he had gone to Molly first, to find a way to tell John without him dying of shock, he wouldn't want that. He needed John. He needed Molly too, but that plan had blown up in all of their faces, so now he had to go talk to John alone.

Damn, this wasn't working out at all. He should have kept an eye on Molly like he had with John. He should have kept a better eye on Lestrade. He was the most brilliant and intelligent person on earth and he had been to focused on John and Mrs Hudson to check on the person who had made his fake suicide possible and the man who gave him distractions for five years yet he never bothered to learn his name.

Sherlock stopped walking. He didn't like all of this _feeling_ rubbish. After about a year on his own they started showing up, and the stupid things were driving him crazy. How did people go around every day with these things? They were so distracting.

Sherlock didn't realise he had continued walking until he looked up and saw the familiar door of 221B Baker street. He just stood there for a minute contemplating what he was going to say. Finally he pushed open the door and walked up the stairs. John was sitting in Sherlock's chair fast asleep. Eventually John started stirring, and Sherlock moved behind the chair. John got up, stretched, and walked to the kitchen with Sherlock following behind him the whole time. Walking into the kitchen John turned the kettle on to make tea, went to the top draw and pulled out a frying pan, turning around and smacked Sherlock across the face with it. Well, that was unexpected.

"Who are you and what the hell do you want?" John was mad, if the hit surveyed anything.

Sherlock turned around and looked at John, who was so shocked he dropped the frying pan on his foot and didn't even notice. Standing up Sherlock tried his hardest not to glare at John.

"Sher-Sherlock?" It had to be a hallucination. But he had felt the frying pan his face, he felt it make contact.

"Hello John."

John started walking backwards away from Sherlock.

"No. No you can't be here. You're dead. I saw you jump off that building I saw you die!" John's voice got louder as he spoke and by the end he was yelling at the top of his voice.

"Clearly I am here you just hit me in the face with a frying pan."

"John are you alright? What with all the yelling?" Shit. Mrs Hudson.

John ran around Sherlock and stopped Mrs Hudson at the door.

"It's nothing. I, uh, I dropped a frying pan on my foot. Don't worry everything's fine." With that John guided her out of the room before she could see Sherlock, or find out John was seeing things again. Or before she found out he was seeing things again.

With Mrs Hudson gone John walked back into the kitchen where Sherlock was still standing.

"Okay. You need to start explaining. How the hell are you alive?"

Sherlock sighed and started explaining.

"Moriarty had it all planned out. He knew I would find him on the roof, he had everything planned out. I knew everything that would happen before I left for the rooftop."

"And how does that mean you aren't dead. I was there. I saw you jump, I saw your body on the ground, I saw the blood. For God's sake I took your pulse!"

"Molly helped me jump, she told me how to-"

"Molly?! Molly Hooper? Shy, quiet, nervous Molly Hooper from the morgue? She helped you fake your death? And she never said anything? Bloody hell."

"Don't blame Molly it wasn't her fault. It was Moriarty's doing."

John sat down and put his face in his hands.

"I'm sorry John." He wasn't really, he couldn't be sorry for it, it had saved John, Mrs Hudson and Lestrades lives. Oh. Lestrade. He'll have to get John to do something about that. Right, John. Said man looked up, surprised at Sherlock's apology.

"Why? You've been gone for three years Sherlock, why?"

"Moriarty is a deadly man. He had my suicide planned to the last detail, including motivation. He knew if he threatened you, Mrs Hudson and Lestrade I would do anything."

"So where have you been for the last three years then?"

"Hunting down Moriarty's snipers. It was surprisingly easier than I thought it would be."

"Well good for you. So, they're all gone, we're all safe. And you've been gone for three years." John's voice became tight and angry. "You've been alive this whole time and you never told us. Do you have any idea what you put us through?"

"I wouldn't have done it if there were any other choice." Why was he saying this? He had done the right thing; he had save his only friends lives. People weren't supposed to apologize for saving other people, so why was he doing it?

"Sherlock you need to leave."

Sherlock looked at him confused. "Why?"

"Because I need time to think and Mrs Hudson will die of shock if she sees you. Go stay with Molly, you two seem to get along a lot better than you let on."

"I can't go to Molly. I went there this morning and-"

"You went to see Molly first?" John sounded betrayed. He scoffed. "You need to leave Sherlock. Leave."

Deciding it would be best to give John his space Sherlock walked out of the apartment, careful not to be caught by Mrs Hudson.

Well, that went pretty much as expected, minus the frying pan to the face.

Now all he had to do was figure out what to do about Lestrade, or if he even should do something.

Sherlock walked down the street to his hotel, which was just down the road from the bar that our favourite detective inspector was in trying to get drunk.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi everyone! as you may have notice i'm not very good at this, but this is my first fanfic. hope you like it!**

Greg wanted to get drunk. He knew he was probably overreacting but he would regret it later. How could Molly not say anything? When Sherlock jumped off that building he lost his credibility, his respect and almost his job. It was a miracle he hadn't lost his job. And Molly had been by his side through the trail, the looks. She was the thing he looked forward to everyday, the thing that made everything not as bad as it should have been. Sherlock ruined his life and Molly was in on the cowards' way out. He didn't know what or why or how, but right now he just wanted to drink and feel betrayed and sorry for himself.

He shouldn't be here though. He should be with Molly on her birthday. He wanted to have a wonderful breakfast and then take her out for the day and then have dinner in a lovely, small, private restaurant away from other people because Molly didn't like crowds and places that were to fancy. The day had gotten off to a great start then Sherlock bloody Holmes showed up and ruined it all. He didn't know how long he had been here. He had been walking all around London for hours before stopping at the pub for a drink. Which turned into two, which turned into three and then he lost count. All he knew was that it was dark outside and Molly was at home alone on her birthday. Some boyfriend he was.

The thought made him even sadder. Pulling the small blue velvet box out of his pocket he leaned forward onto the bar.

"Rough day?" Lestrade looked up at the bartender who had a sympathetic smile on her face.

"Yeah." He mumbled.

"Troubles with your girl?"

"I guess you could say that."

"Wanna talk about it?"

Lestrade smile sadly. "Birthday plans went to hell, things got complicated."

"Pretty serious huh?" at Lestrades confused look she explained. "The ring." She said gesturing to his hand.

"Ah, yeah. Right."

"How long's it been?"

"Almost three years." The bartender smiled at the pride in Lestrades voice.

"So, if you've been together for three years, you're proposing to her on her birthday, and if you don't mind me asking, why aren't you with her instead of a pub for the last three and a half hours?"

Lestrade rubbed his forehead. Had it really been three and a half hours? God, he was a selfish S.O.B. He knew Molly. If she kept this a secret she obviously had a good reason. She had helped Sherlock for a good reason, he was sure. A good reason that probably wasn't that she was in love with the freaking sociopath.

God what was he going to do. He could either go home, talk to Molly, let her explain and try to salvage the last few hours of her birthday and try to make it up to her, which was the mature, good boyfriend choice, or he could get drunk, wander down the street, wake up in some random place with a horrible hangover, down two litres of coffee trying to sober up and try to make it up to Molly tomorrow. What if Sherlock was at the apartment when he got there? No, that was stupid. Molly loved him. That, he never got. Sherlock was extremely smart, good looking (even he had to admit the bastard had amazing cheekbones) and had a cool job. Girls found that kind of thing attractive didn't they? The guns and the bad guys. He looked at the clock. 10:24. Making his choice, he downed his drink and ordered another. He was pretty sure there was a hotel down the street. Two hours later he was heading to the hotel down the road, completely wasted. Unfortunately there were no vacancies. Looking around he didn't know what to do. He couldn't go back to the house, not while he was drunk. He didn't want to say something wrong. Walking down the street he recognised the familiar houses of Baker Street. Knocking on Johns door, he waited for him to open the door, almost falling over several times in the two minutes it took John to answer the door.

"What are you doing here? It's one in the morning!"

"The hotel's closed. And Molly's mad at me. Or am I mad at her?"

John rolled his eyes. "Come inside."

John helped Lestrade stumble up the stairs put him on the lounge.

"Okay. Stay here and I'll get some coffee, you need to sober up." Greg shuffled on the lounge to get more comfortable and John went into the kitchen to get Lestrade something to eat and coffee.

As the pot was boiling John walked in and took Greg's shoes off.

"Molly knew." He slurred. "She knew the whole time and didn't say anything." He pulled the ring out of his pocket. "I was going to propose to her tonight." He gave a humourless chuckle. "We see how that worked out didn't we."

John started feeling bad for Greg. He knew why Molly had kept the secret; her boyfriends' life was at stake. If Sherlock had told him that when he dropped by then maybe Molly and Greg would have sorted things out and had a great day, gone to dinner. Then they could be happily engaged right now.

"I'm sure things will work out." Unfortunately Greg had passed out and couldn't hear.

Forty minutes later he was awake and had sobered up considerably and was on his fifth coffee.

"So," John broke the silence. "You want to explain what you were doing at my front door in the middle of the night?"  
"Do you know?"

"Do I know Sherlock's alive and he used Molly to help fake his suicide and has been alive the whole time and didn't say anything. Yeah I know."

Lestrade nodded. "Right."

"I also know Sherlock came to your house this morning." He nodded again.

"You and Molly had a fight?"

"I walked out when Sherlock showed up. I almost lost everything because of him and Molly knew the whole time and didn't say anything."

"Look, Sherlock dropped by today and explained a bit. He said Moriarty threatened us."

"Us?"

"You, me, and Mrs Hudson. He had a Sniper for each of us, and apparently the only way to keep us alive was to die."

"Oh God." He got up and walked around the room. What the hell had he done?

"What the hell have I done?"

"What's wrong."

"What's wrong is that I walked out on Molly without letting her explain and I've ruined everything."

"I'm sure you didn't ruin everything. You found out your girlfriend had kept a giant secret from you that involved the loss of your respect and the near loss of your job. I'm sure Molly will understand. Just explain."

"Oh God. What am I going to do?"

"Right now you're going to get some rest and then tomorrow you're going to go home and explain to Molly, make it up to her and try to get her to forgive you. But right now you're going to sleep. Don't want you hung over when you propose."

Lestrade looked up, surprised.

"You mumble when you're drunk. Now go to sleep."

John went to bed and unlike the night before Greg couldn't sleep. When he was sure John was asleep he pulled out his phone and went through his pictures. Finding the pictures of Molly, for the first time all day, he smiled a real smile. She was so beautiful. He ended up staring at his phones wallpaper. It was the same picture he put in the Locket. God, that seemed so long ago.

Deciding it was better to try and not think of the mess the day turned into he turned off his phone and just laid there, and by the time the sun was going down he finally fell asleep.


	4. first date

Molly was working late in the morgue. Sherlock had 'died' over a month ago and she was settling down. she hardly jumped when the door opened, an she was slightly less uncomfortable around John, not that she had seen him much. She was just finishing up when the door opened, and DI Lestrade walked into the morgue.

"Um... Can I-Can I help you?"

Lestrade jumped. "Molly! I thought you'd have gone home by now." he looked like he had been caught doing something wrong.

"I was just finishing up. Do you need something?"

"No, I just... neeed to get away from tweedle dee and tweedle dum."

"Donovan and Anderson being unbearable again?"

"Yeah. This whole thing is their fualt."

"I'm sure they wouldn't have done anyhing if they knew this would happen."

"Yeah I'm sure." Lestrade said sarcastically. "Do you want to go for coffee?"

Molly froze. what?! Lestrade asked her to get coffee.

"Why?"

"Um... I don't know. to talk? Get to know each other."

"You want to get to know me?"

He smiled nervously. " Sure."

She should say no. She had to stay away from people. She couldn't let them know Sherlock was alive and she was horrible at keeping secrets. Then again, Lestrade was really a great guy. And it was just coffee...

"Yeah, um, I'll just get my coat."

"Great." Molly walke into her office and Lestrade resisted the urge to fist pump.

He knew he shouldn't be happy, but he had wanted to ask Molly out for ages now, and now they were going for coffee. It wasn't really a date, but it was a start.

Molly came back in and they left for coffee.

It was nice going out with Molly, she was sweet and... Natural. She didn't put on a bunch of make up or dress in skim tight clothes. He liked her.

After they finished their coffee Lestrade walked her home.

It has been a nice night, and when they got to her apartment he kissed her goodnight. It was short and sweet. Two days later they were going on their first real date.

Lestrade fell in love with her and she fell in love with him. She was really an amazing person and her treated her better than anybody else she had ever dated. They were happy and the issue of Sherlock never came up.

He should have realised things were going too perfectly. His last wife of fifteen years was cheating on him and his career had gone to hell. Molly was too good to be true.

But she was true. She was in their apartment. Alone. After her boyfriend ruined her birthday. He had to make it up to her. Before She left him forever.

Greg sat up abruptly. What the hell kind of dream was that?! Sitting up he looked around and rubbed his face. God, he needed to ho home. Looking at the clock Lestrade grabbed his coat and ran downstairs. Taking off down the street he ran all the way to their apartment. He tried to open the door but it was locked, and he didn't have a key. Shit. It was 6:45 in the morning and his neighbours would be asleep.

"Molly! Molly answer the door. Come on Mols!" He yelled through the door.

After waiting ten minutes he decided Molly wasn't going to answer and sat down on the front steps. How could he get in? Remembering the back windows latch was loose he walked around the back and climbed in through the window barely bug enough. He ran upstairs and to their bedroom. Molly wasn't at home. Damn. He pulled his phone out and tried to call Molly. No answer.

Wait, maybe she was at the morgue. It was worth a shot. He grabbed his wallet and called a cab to Bart's. he got a lot of strange looks and he could only imagine he looked like hell but he was used to them. Reaching the morgue dread filled him when he saw she wasn't there. Lestrade ran to the phone and called Molly cellphone again. Again no answer. He tried to call John.

"Hello?"

"John, have you heard from Molly?"

"No. Should I of?"

"No. If she calls you can you let me know?"

"Yeah, of course. "

"Thanks. " He hung up without waiting for Johns response.

Leaning against the metal bed he racked his brain thinking of a place Molly could be.

He didn't know why he thought of it, and there was really no reason behind it, but he thought it was worth checking.


	5. Chapter 5

Molly stared at the door Greg and then Sherlock had just walked out.

She wanted to tell Greg about Sherlock, and she almost had a few times. But it wouldn't have done anything. Sherlock was gone and wouldn't come back until he was finished what he had to do. Molly hadn't cared when or even if he came back. As long as Greg was safe she wanted nothing to do with the whole mess. Molly curled up into a seat in the lounge room and toyed with her locket, wishing she could close her eyes and be in bed with Greg next to her and none of this had happened.

She didn't realise the tears were sliding down her cheek until she felt them fall on her hand. She hadn't cried in so long. Had she ruined everything? Would Greg let her explain what had happened. She closed her eyes and cried herself to sleep, her last thought was Greg's voice saying he would never get bored and walk out. He promised.

When Molly woke up again it was dark outside, and after checking through the whole house, she found Greg wasn't home yet.

Well, this sucked. She needed to sleep on this, despite sleeping all day she was still exhausted. Potentially losing the person you loved was very emotionally draining. So, unlike her boyfriend who was across town getting drunk and talking to a pretty bartender, she headed to bed. two sleeping pills later she was out.

'Damn. Those stupid sleeping pills didn't work' was Molly first thought when she awoke at five o'clock the next morning. She rolled over slowly, knowing he wouldn't be there but hoping he was. The tears started welling up in her eyes when her mobile's message alert went off.

She reached over and read the text.

'Molly, meet me at Bart's in an hour.'

She didn't even need to read the SH to know it was from Sherlock Bloody Holmes. Damn that arrogant bastard. Deciding she needed to yell at somebody, Molly got up and dressed, and was in a cab heading to meet Sherlock at 6:35.

She paid the cabbie and walked into Barts, texting Sherlock asking him where he was.

'The roof.'

'Why the roof'?'

No response. God she hated him right now. Molly walked all the way up to the roof trying not to yell she wasn't the kin of girl that yelled and got mad at people. But she wasn't the nervous stuttering mouse from the morgue she had been. She was different, but she didn't know how. If she wasn't the shy girl who worked by herself, and she isn't the normal kind of girl. What was she? Whatever she was now wasn't the time to think about it. She grabbed the doorknob and walked out onto the roof. Sherlock was standing near the edge of the building with his right foot up on the short railing.

"Don't jump." Molly called when she was just a few metres away from him. He hadn't even turned around to look at her. "Wouldn't want everything to be a waste." She was standing next to him now.

"How's Greg?" Molly could tell he wasn't enjoying being concerned.

"Why do you care?"

Sherlock sighed, annoyed.

"You helped me Molly. I owe you my life." Molly was slightly sceptical, but answered anyway.

"I haven't seen him since he left yesterday. He won't pick up his phone."

"I'm sorry Molly."

"No you're not. And you shouldn't be. You saved their lives, and I should have told Greg when things blew over."

"Somehow I think being hunted down and killed would interrupt my job."

Molly smiled and Sherlock smiled at her.

"So what happens now? John'll eventually take you back. He needs you to much. Greg will probably not want to work with you anymore. So what do we do?"

"Lestrade will be fine once you explain. Even if he knew I was alive it wouldn't have made a difference." Sherlock turned and looked at her. "You saved his life Molly."

"Yeah. Now I just have to find him, explain, and hope he doesn't freak out and walk out forever."

"I thought I told you i wasn't going to leave."

Molly spun around. "Greg?"

Lestrade stood behind an old door. He knew he had to go through, but he didn't want to face the possibility that she might not be on the other side. He took a deep breath and twisted the doorknob slowly, not making a sound as he stepped out onto the roof.

On the plus side Molly was there. On the downside so was the curly haired smart ass detective.

They were talking, and he decided to listen when his name came up.

"So what happens now? John'll eventually take you back. He needs you to much. Greg will probably not want to work with you anymore. So what do we do?" he heard Molly ask.

"Lestrade will be fine once you explain. Even if he knew I was alive it wouldn't have made a difference." Sherlock turned his head to look at her. "You saved his life Molly."

What? saved his life?

"Yeah. Now I just have to find him, explain, and hope he doesn't freak out and walk out forever." Molly sounded sad, like she was sure he was going to leave.

"I thought I told you I wasn't going to leave." he called out and saw her spin around, her face surprised.

"Greg? What are you doing here?"  
"I'm not sure, actually. But I think we need to talk. in private." Sherlock was already walking past Lestrade and through the door.

"Gre, look I'm sorry I should have told you-" Lestrade cut Molly off my kissing her. Molly was confused but wasn't going to push him away.

"I'm so sorry Mols I should have let ou explain." he pulled her into a hug that was so tight she could hardly breathe. "I'm so so sorry Molly." he whispered in her ear.

They stood there for a while, just holding each other. eventually they pulled apart and Molly grabbed his hand.

"Come on lets go home, We'll sort everything out later."

Lestrade smiled down at her and put his arm around her, walking home with her.

Down at the entrance of the hospital the worlds only consulting detective was smiling to himself. He may have been gone for the last three years but he still knew how people thought. He couldn't help feeling superior, but only for a second. He still needed John back to fully return to how things were. He pulled his phone out and looked at the text John had sent him last night with the phone number he had left on the coffee table. the text came at one o'clock the previous night.

'Fix whatever you did with Lestrade and Molly and we'll talk. JW'

He fixed it. now Lestrade just needed to propose to Molly and everything would be fine, and Sherlock could go back to being the same smart assed freak he had been before the fall. He smiled. This was even easier than he thought. considering he thought John would react volently (More violently than a frying pan to the face, after all he hadn't known that was Sherlock) kick him out of the flat and not talk to him for a few weeks. but this had been a lot less painful. hailing a cab he told to cabbie the adress. it was nice to say it again. 221B Baker street. It was good to be home again.


End file.
